“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” ―Anatole France

It might seem a little excessive that my son has mourned his pet fish, Hiya, so intensely–but this little fish was the only pet my son has ever had.

And, even though fish are probably the LEAST interactive of all animal-pets, our Hiya was still, sorta, always around.

Cyclone had even learned how to feed him off his fingers.  There really was a bond there, between boy and fish, what a wonder.

In the days since his passing, my boy has managed to awe me with his coping abilities.  He drew pictures:

And wrote songs, and the other day he asked for some tape and the next time I saw him he was wearing a necklace that he had fashioned out of a stone from Hiya’s bowl.

Simply beautiful.

There is an artist’s sensitivity trapped inside of my normally wild and untamed boy.  (Maybe those two things go hand-in-hand.)

I wish I could have spared him this lesson in life’s fragility, but watching him mourn has been a true wonder.

My boy is already a master in using all of his senses to bleed out the pain.  His ears want to hear sad songs, his eyes long for pictures of his friend, his skin wants to carry the weight of his memory (oh, the tattoos I am seeing in my future).

Plus, he wants to create it all himself.

Today, just like everyday, I wish I was more like him.

I have been looking up quotes and advice about dealing with the passing of a pet, and I stumbled upon this poem, which I will share with you.

Sums things up pretty well.

“I made myself a snowball
As perfect as can be.
I thought I’d keep it as a pet,
And let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas
And a pillow for it’s head.
Then last night it ran away,
But first – It wet the bed.”
― Shel Silverstein

About trinakhobbs

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